


Privacy Matters

by ister



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: (none of it is graphic though), First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Napoleon thinks he's sly, mentions of a dead body, mentions of wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ister/pseuds/ister
Summary: "How to get a date" by Illya Kuryakin.





	

"Another dead body," Solo strolls in, stating the obvious while looking damn pleased.

Illya tries to contain the heavy sigh threatening to leave his mouth. Of course it's a dead body, he knows, he was the one performing the post-mortem on the poor sod.

"Yes, is there a reason you are here?" he asks and tries to be friendly - Solo's hurt puppy eyes proving once again that he isn't.

"Well, I came down here to talk to y- to ask you about the victim."

"Not much to tell. Middle aged, gut wound, dead." Illya turns to look at Solo.

His furrowed brow is testing his patience and the half open mouth while in thinking process is downright annoying, the lips looking soft. He is the most infuriating man Illya has ever met and he wants to shove him against the nearest wall to knock some sense into him, to- Oh.

He shakes his head. "Any leads?" he wants to know, because he has to distract himself.

"Not really, he left few things, has no living family members and all traces lead to nothing," Solo answers, not thrown off by his harshness at all.

"So not the Trush?" Illya crosses his arms and uncrosses them, then he tries to lean against the table with the instruments on it but it rolls away and he nearly falls over.

Solo ignores his embarrassing antics and shakes his head. "No, there isn't enough blood," he says, all confidence - like most of the time, he's only awkward if asked about private things. Not that Illya has a lot of experience when it comes to small talk.

"Gut wounds are always bloody." He can't hide his amusement, because he knows what's about to come.

As assumed correctly, Solo gets into business mode and straightens his back. He starts to explain the details and gesticulates a lot. His eyebrows are out of control, wandering upwards and downwards, sometimes only one, sometimes both. It's the most adorable thing Illya has seen in a while and he starts to grin.

"What's amusing you, Peril?" Solo wants to know.

"It's private," Illya tells him, because he doesn't know what else to say.

"I don't see a problem." Solo smirks, clearly feign confidence.

"I do, because I don't discuss private things while being on the job." Illya straigthens his left sleeve.

"Hm." Solo smiles and takes a step closer. "May I suggest a solution?"

"Go ahead." He is curious now, the little devil is far too good with words.

"I know a place without a lot of blood. Only in small bits. They have great steaks." He looks up at him, an hopeful expression on his face.

Illya thinks. In the end, he only says one word: "No."

Solo's face falls. "No?" he asks, voice small.

Illya nods. "I like my steaks bloody."

"That's good to hear." There is that damned grin again. "So on Friday around six? I'll pick you up and we can walk there?"

"Yes," Illya says and tries to not get lost in his eyes.

Unsurprisingly, he fails spectacularly.

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: Thanks for reading! :D
> 
> This came to my mind while watching _Criminal Minds_ and I had to write it down. I know it's a little bit short, but I wanted to post it anyway.
> 
> Kudos and comments brighten my day :)
> 
> That's about it. Have a nice day! :D


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